


Best of Todays/Worst of Tomorrows

by romantichopelessly



Series: BOTWOT [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Angst, Child Neglect, Drug Abuse, Family, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Neglect, Past Child Abuse, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-06-25 15:26:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19748524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romantichopelessly/pseuds/romantichopelessly
Summary: Thomas Sanders, 30 years old, is looking for something to do with his life. Not like a job or anything, he has that covered, but he's recently come to the realization that he isn't really doing anything with himself. He has too much free time and what feels like next to no impact on the world.Until, much to the shock of his close friends, he becomes a foster parent.In next to no time at all, Thomas is paired with not one, not two, but six foster kids.Seventeen-year-old Patton Hart, fifteen-year-old Virgil Williams, thirteen-year-old Dee Truman, twelve-year-old Logan Croft, and seven-year-olds Roman and Remus Lobo.





	1. Prologue

Thomas paced in front of the closed entryway, trying desperately to ignore the faintest threads of anxiety coursing through his system.

For whatever reason, he suddenly felt much less ready than he had a week and a half ago, when he had scheduled this visit with the state social worker. Then, Thomas had been full of confidence and excitement at the prospect of becoming a foster parent.

Now, Thomas was irrationally wondering if he had accidentally committed tax fraud or something, and the social worker would show up with a police squad rather than a pad of paper and a few questions.

Forcing himself to stand still, Thomas turned away from the door to his house and pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. As if somehow, from miles away, they had sensed their best friend’s rapidly rising anxiety, Thomas’s phone lit up with a text.

**Joan:** _You freaking out yet?_

Thomas huffed a laugh, something in his chest relaxing at the slightly sarcastic reminder that he was not actually alone in this.

**Thomas:** _No. Maybe._

Maybe he was freaking out a bit because he was less than ten minutes away from having a state social worker inspect his house and interview him for the possibility of matching him with kids that he would be taking care of for the foreseeable future. Just a few months ago, the idea of any of this would sound downright insane.

And now, here he was having already finished fostering orientation, training courses, and intensive background checks.

It wasn’t that Thomas was second guessing his decision. He knew that this was what was right for him. It was something that he had to do.

His anxiety just happened to be a bitch sometimes.

Thomas’s phone pinged with another incoming text.

**Joan:** _That’s good, Thomas. I’d probably be more worried if you weren’t freaking out at all. We were all kinda waiting for you to._

Thomas bit his lower lip, glancing back up to the still stubbornly closed door before him. Looking back down at his phone, Thomas knew that Joan was right. He would make sure to tell them so later.

It had taken a lot to come to the conclusion that fostering was even a feasible idea for Thomas. As an internet personality and YouTuber, his life was already pretty hectic without kids.

It was December of the year previous. Thomas had just finished a rather intense charity livestream, and was coming down from the high of posting a particularly intense video to his channel. When the high that should have come with the success of the week did not appear, Thomas found himself… thinking. Staring at the tiny Christmas tree in the corner of his living room, he couldn’t help but ponder where his life was going. He knew that in only a few months, he would be thirty years old, and while most would consider his life to be a dream--an amazing job, millions of fans, spectacular friends, and a loving family--that night, Thomas couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was… missing.

He needed to do something with his life. Something… _more._

And if it just so happened that _Annie_ was on the television at that moment, Thomas would never admit that it sparked the idea.

Of course, Thomas did not take the decision lightly. He wasn’t a fool. Foster parenting was difficult. And, honestly, he hadn’t thought that he would ever be cut out for anything of the sort. His mind had almost immediately latched onto every possible thing that he could do wrong as a foster parent. But the more that Thomas thought about it, the more appealing that the idea became.

He was financially stable enough. He was in a good place with his career, his presence on the internet was definitely not looking like it was going away anytime soon.

It definitely helped that he had some of the best friends in the world, as well. Friends that offered him just the right amount of concern and skepticism balanced with overwhelming support once they saw just how serious Thomas was about fostering.

So, Thomas Sanders had applied to become a foster parent.

And honestly, the prospect of becoming one grew on him every single day since.

Thomas was pulled out of his reverie by a knock on his front door. He quickly pocketed his phone, stepping forward and pulling the door open, his smile wide. His smile was met with the top of a woman’s head, her attention focused solely on the tablet in her hands.

“Mr. Sanders?”

Thomas blinked, leaning forward, but not opening the door any wider, mildly confused by the woman’s demeanor. “Um… Yes?”

For the first time, the woman looked up, only making brief eye contact with Thomas before returning her attention to her screen. “I am Cassidy Harrison, and I am a social worker with the state of Florida’s foster system.” She glanced up again, nodding towards the doorway that Thomas was still blocking. “May I come in?”

Thomas nodded quickly, moving back and holding the door open. Internally, he chastised himself for not doing so sooner. “Yes, of course, sorry.”

The woman--Ms. Harrison--stepped into the room and immediately swept her assessing gaze over the interior. She made a note on her tablet. Thomas tried his best not to let his nerves show.

“Can I get you anything?” Thomas fought the urge to shove his hands into his pockets by gesturing in the direction of his kitchen.

Ms. Harrison shook her head. “That will not be necessary. I do not plan on being here for very long, Mr. Sanders.”

Thomas nodded awkwardly. His fingers itched to pull his phone back out of his pocket and message Joan. Really, he wasn’t sure that Ms. Harrison would even notice, her eyes were so glued to her tablet.

“I see here that you live alone?”

“Hopefully not for much longer, am I right?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Thomas regretted them. Ms. Harrison looked up from her tablet in surprise. Thomas gave a sheepish smile, internally cursing his awfully timed sense of humor. “I mean… I mean because of the kids of course, Ms. Harrison.”

Ms. Harrison stared at him for a moment in silence. Thomas was just about to apologize for his horrible case of foot in mouth syndrome when he noticed the smallest of smiles pulling at the corner of Ms. Harrison’s mouth. He breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“Of course, Mr. Sanders. And you may call me Cassidy.”

Thomas felt the tension in his shoulders melt. He smiled. “Call me Thomas, Cassidy.”

For the next hour or so, Cassidy asked Thomas a series of questions, making sure that all of his information was current and correct, and took in the state of his home. Thomas slowly relaxed into the interaction, answering honestly, his previous nerves melting into the background.

Cassidy’s mood drastically changed over the course of the interview. At the end, she snapped closed the cover to her tablet and stood, a visible smile on her face. She held out a hand and Thomas shook it graciously, a smile of his own tugging on his lips.

“It was good to meet you, Thomas.” Cassidy placed her tablet under her arm, dropping her hand back to her side. “I just have one last question before I must go, in regards to pairing you with one or more of our children. Just how many foster children would you be willing to take in?”

Thomas grinned, his eyes bright. That definitely meant that she thought he was a good candidate for a foster parent. He suppressed the urge to pump his fist in the air like a triumphant cartoon character. “As many as you think I can handle!” He joked.

Cassidy’s eyes lit up, at the joke, Thomas assumed. “That sounds wonderful, Thomas. There are just too many foster children in this state, and not enough individuals willing to house them.”

Thomas nodded, his smile wavering slightly. It was a depressing truth, for sure, but it seemed like a bit of a non sequitur. “I just want to help.”

Cassidy smiled brightly. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. I believe that I have just the children for you. You’re almost too perfect a match. It is rather unorthodox to take in so many children for a first time foster parent, but in these times…” She trailed off, sizing Thomas up. “Well, I believe that you’ll do just fine. I will send you the information on the children tonight, and we can set up meetings with them in the next few weeks.”

Thomas’s heart swelled at the news. Cassidy already had children in mind for him. It had to be a good sign. Sure, he hadn’t expected two or three children right away, but he certainly wasn’t one to walk away from a challenge. “Sounds great.”

With that, Thomas led Cassidy to the front door and bid her a good afternoon. As soon as the door was shut, Thomas turned on his heel and allowed himself his cartoonish fist pump, already pulling his phone out of his pocket and calling Joan.

\----

“More than one? You sure that you can handle this Sanders?”

Thomas chuckled, refreshing his email yet again. He knew that Cassidy had said that she would send the information on his potential matches that night, but Cassidy seemed like a fairly efficient woman, so he was not about to take any chances and miss the moment that the email reached his inbox.

“Yes I’m sure! Joan, this is _it_! I’m finally going to do something, to help someone. I’m making a difference.”

Thomas could almost hear his best friend’s disapproving frown at those words. He and Joan had had this discussion many times since Thomas had first brought up fostering. Joan had always insisted that Thomas did make an impact regardless of this act, and Thomas still didn’t quite know how to explain to them that this was something more. This was… This was physical. This was doing something that would alter lives. This wasn’t just a boost to his ego or fame. In fact, Thomas knew that as soon as he was matched with a kid--or kids, now--he would take a break from being an online presence. Joan still held doubts that Thomas was secure in his impact before fostering, he knew that, but he also knew that his friend would stand by him anyway.

“You know that you’re making a difference anyway, Thomas. Just because you can’t see-”

Just then, Thomas’s newly refreshed page came through, showing a new unread email in his inbox. Instantly, Joan’s words fell into the background.

“It’s here!” Thomas exclaimed, clicking the icon hurridly.

It took only seconds for the email to load, and Thomas quickly scanned through Cassidy’s polite greetings and preliminary nonsense to the attachments at the bottom.

“Well? Thomas? What does it say?” Joan’s voice sounded distant as Thomas ran his eyes over the attachments.

All six of them.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas meets one of the six kids that he could potentially be fostering. It goes far better than he could have anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to @sunshineandteddybears and @insanelycoolish on Tumblr for helping me work out this story and put it together. They're fantastic.

Following his scanning of Cassidy’s email, a nearly thirty minute rollercoaster of emotions besieged Thomas, oscillating between _“Six children? I can’t take care of six children!”_ and _“Goodness gracious they trust me with six children?”_ before Joan finally broke through to him, pointing out that these were six _possible_ matches, and that the chances of Thomas matching with all six of the children were infinitesimal.

The logical reasoning eventually wore Thomas down. Of course no one expected him to take in all of the children. They were just suggestions. Recommendations. Possible matches.

With those rational thoughts in mind, Thomas thanked his best friend for their help and hung up, spending the rest of the night afterwards reading over the attached files and information on each of the six foster children before sending Cassidy a late night email asking for her to send him possible dates to meet the kids.

He really had to stop counting on Cassidy to be up so late.

_Meeting six foster children wouldn’t hurt anyone,_ Thomas repeated to himself as he pressed send. If he was lucky, even one of the children would actually be a match for him.

There was no need to be worried about something as impossible as six troubled kids trusting _him_ of all people.

The following Monday morning, Thomas spent probably way too long agonizing over what outfit was just right for meeting a twelve year old kid that he knew far too much about.

Cassidy had emailed him back right away, of course, setting up hour long introduction sessions with each of the kids throughout the week, as well as linking to an article about how to relieve new foster parent anxiety. Thomas still wasn’t sure what to think once he saw his entire week filled with these meetings. He knew that he would likely not get along with all of the kids, but a large part of him was still worried that none of them would like him.

Shoving that thought yet again into the ‘not thinking about that right now’ corner of his mind and finally deciding on a simple polo and jeans, Thomas grabbed his keys and left the house.

\----

After all of his overthinking about what he would wear and his endless reciting of the advice the article that Cassidy sent him had had about meeting a potential foster child for the first time, Thomas actually arrived at the social center seven minutes before the allotted time for his meeting. Thankfully, Cassidy was already standing by the front door, tablet in hand, leaving him no time to let his nervous thoughts fester.

“Thomas!” Cassidy’s smile was much less bright than it had been the week before. _Most likely due to the fact that she was at her place of work,_ Thomas reminded himself. 

He smiled back, politely. “Hello, Cassidy. I hope I’m not too early?”

The social worker shook her head, already inviting him inside and leading him down a hallway. “Not at all. Logan is already in the common room occupying himself.”

A flutter of nerves rose in Thomas’s stomach. He was only meeting one kid today, but it was still so daunting that he nearly considered excusing himself to the bathroom to hyperventilate for a minute or two.

Thomas forced himself to take a deep breath. Rule Number One from “New Foster Parents - IT’S NORMAL!”: This is about the kid.

Cassidy continued, her eyes focused on the screen of her tablet rather than Thomas. “I trust that you read his file. Of course, not all of Logan’s information was divulged, as per protocol, so you may have questions?”

Logan Croft. Twelve years old, been in the foster system for less than one of those years, described by his previous foster parents as a quiet child. Thomas had nearly memorized all of the information, including the fact that both of the boy’s parents were dead, having passed in a recent car crash.

Just reading it had made Thomas’s heart hurt. Maybe Joan had a point about his heart being a bit too big for this sort of thing.

Thomas was just about to reply when Cassidy stopped them in front of a large window. Thomas turned, looking in at a medium sized room with various toys and books, a large table covered in crayons and coloring pages, and a couple of worn armchairs inside. Sitting in one of the chairs, curled up and staring intently at the pages of a notebook through a pair of too-nice glasses, was a dark skinned boy.

Logan. It had to be.

Thomas watched silently as the boy, Logan, mouthed along to whatever it was that he was reading. Beside him, Cassidy smiled softly to herself and typed something into her tablet. “I’ll take that as a no. You can go in whenever you are ready.”

Thomas hesitated, looking from Cassidy to the doorway and back again. There really was no use in delaying the inevitable. He _wanted_ to do this.

His legs were just being particularly obstinate today.

Glancing back at Cassidy one last time, Thomas was met with a comforting smile as he moved forward towards the door and into the room. Stepping into the room was like stepping into a different time. The previous roaring in Thomas’s ears quieted to nothing, matching the silence of the room.

Logan did not even look up from his notebook until Thomas had come to stand before the second armchair. Then, the boy looked up, his dark eyes clinical and searching.

“Mind if I sit here?”

“That is what a chair is for, yes.” It did not escape Thomas that the reply was not a direct answer to his question, but he decided not to press. If Logan asked him to leave, he would. 

“I’m Thomas. Sanders.” He tacked his last name on lamely, knowing that Logan already knew who he was and why he was there.

Thankfully, Logan did not seem much one for pointless pleasantries either. Marking his place in his notebook with his finger as he slipped it closed, the boy slid forward to sit on the edge of his cushion, never breaking his direct eye contact with Thomas. “I am Logan Croft, though you likely know that well, as you must have read my file, or whatever facsimile of my file they gave you, before attending this session.”

Thomas nodded. What else could he do? The kid was right. And very clever, it seemed. “I did.”

Though it was obviously the answer that Logan had been expecting, the boy did not look too pleased with the information. A quick look of dissatisfaction crossed his face before he could mask it. A look of distrust. Thomas could read it all too well.

“You know, we don’t have to talk about that, if you don’t want to. This whole thing is just so we can get to know one another.”

“Mr. Sanders, please,” Logan’s voice was clipped and all too serious for a twelve-year-old, “my parents died in a car crash nearly ten months ago. There is not much to discuss, nor much to hide. As for getting to know one another…”

Thomas really hoped that his acting skills were up to par right now. It was extremely difficult masking his own heartbreak at the point blank way that Logan spoke about his parents’ deaths. He wondered if the kid had been given any time to properly grieve at all…

Logan, seemingly blind to the distress that he was causing the man, flipped the notebook that he had been reading back open and skimmed through a few pages before coming to rest on one, turning it so that Thomas could see. “As you can see, I have enumerated every asset that I would offer were you to foster me. I have no food sensitivities or dietary restrictions, I do not take up much space, and I am willing to share a room, were that to be necessary. I have stellar grades that have not once dipped past an A+, and I am known to be quiet. While I am under no disillusion that adoption will come of this endeavor, as I am a rather lackluster child older than the age of five, I would very much appreciate it if you were to take these points into consideration as you undergo the decision making process.”

Each word out of Logan’s mouth chipped away at Thomas’s heart, his stomach churning with anger, upset, _heartbreak_ , as Logan’s expression remained perfectly neutral throughout the exchange.

This kid deserved _better_.

“You…” Thomas struggled to make his vocal cords work. “You don’t have to prove yourself to me, Logan.”

Logan tilted his head, the smallest bead of suspicion souring his otherwise neutral manner. “Yes, well, I find it better to come into situations like this one prepared.”

Thomas looked down at the piece of paper in front of him. It was apparent now that Logan had been rehearsing this little speech before Thomas entered the room. Thomas swallowed, already knowing exactly what this meant. He glanced back up at Logan, who now looked almost… nervous. Thomas felt as if something had both melted and solidified within him. A fuzzy soft feeling right up against a new determination.

“I’ll keep these in mind.” He passed the notebook back across the table. “Now, how do you want to spend the rest of this hour?” Logan’s calm and collected demeanor immediately melted into a soft look of surprise at the simultaneous dismissal of his plan and expressed further interest. Thomas’s determination only grew stronger.

Logan was a good kid, and Thomas was going to help him figure that out.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas meets three more of his potential foster kids.

“You read the Lobo file in full?” Surprisingly, this morning, Cassidy was without her tablet, and it hit Thomas as she made direct eye contact with him, just how much shorter than himself she was.

Thomas nodded. He had read all of the files that she had sent him. He was positive that he had told Cassidy so yesterday, when he had met Logan. In the back of his mind, he thought that maybe she was checking for a particular reason, maybe there was something about these twin boys that he was meeting that he needed to be aware of before entering a room with them.

Thomas shook that thought away. They were only seven-year-old boys. They weren’t rabid dogs.

“Yes.” Thomas answered simply, smiling politely. “Cover to cover.”

“It was a digital file, Thomas.”

Thomas blinked, unused to being taken so literally. “Uh… yeah. I read it. Twins, been in the system for about five years, lots of homes.”

As if satisfied with that answer, Cassidy waved Thomas into the hallway, leading him back down to the room that he had been in yesterday. “I must warn you, these two boys have bounced around in our system a lot. We haven’t been able to find them a stable home, and they refuse to be separated. We usually do not even consider separating twins--we even try not to separate siblings--but these two… Well, let’s just say that we have gotten a few complaints.”

Thomas shifted uncomfortably. He was about to ask what exactly multiple experienced foster parents could find so hard to deal with about seven-year-olds, when the window to the meeting room came into view.

Thomas grew even more perplexed as he took in the sight of the two curly haired Hispanic boys seated on either side of the large coloring table, scribbling away with crayons.

They looked harmless. Pleasant, even. Nothing like the “rowdy, easily excitable, troublemakers” that the previous foster parents quoted in their files had described them as.

Thomas opened his mouth to voice his confusion when Cassidy held up a hand, silencing him and pointing back at the room. “Please do not jinx it, Mr. Sanders.”

Thomas bit back the words, nodding ever so slightly, even though every instinct in him was screaming to defend these kids. Which was odd, because Cassidy hadn’t even directly insulted them.

For a few more moments, Thomas allowed himself to just watch the boys through the window.

Because he was letting them enjoy their moment of peace, of course, not because he was overwhelmingly nervous about the rumors surrounding them.

The smaller of the two twins was wearing a half-undone pair of overalls over what appeared to be a too big green t-shirt. He was scribbling furiously on his paper with a purple crayon. From the angle that he was at, Thomas could not tell if the boy was even drawing something with any sort of rhyme or reason.

Thomas turned his attention to the other boy, who was handling his light blue crayon with much greater care than his brother. Looking at this boy’s red and yellow striped shirt, Thomas was grateful that the two were wearing different colors, as they were completely identical from a distance, were it not for the slight size difference.

Feeling a smile start to grow on his face, Thomas stepped towards the door. This wasn’t going to be nearly as bad as Cassidy or that file had made it out to be.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Thomas left the window and entered the playroom. He approached the coloring table with caution. Though he wasn’t quite as worried about the twins as he had been, disrupting their peaceful drawing without warning seemed like a bad idea.

Thomas cleared his throat when he reached the table, stopping right behind one of the short chairs in the remaining side closest to the door. Neither of the boys stopped coloring, though the one in the red striped shirt did look up. “Hi. I’m Thomas. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You can’t say that.” The voice came from the smaller, green clad boy, who was still jabbing at his paper with his purple crayon without pause.

Glancing back at his brother, Thomas saw the other boy nodding at his sibling’s words. “Yeah. You can’t say it’s nice to meet us ‘cause you don’t know us.”

Thomas’s brow furrowed. He supposed that that was true. In a convoluted, elementary way. “Well… I guess I meant-”

“Look!! I drew a dragon!” The boy in red and yellow lifted his paper high, showing off a surprisingly well done crayon sketch of a red and blue dragon. It didn’t escape Thomas that the boy was only showing his work to his brother, though.

Slowly, Thomas pulled out the chair and sat at the table, while the boy in green looked over his brother’s art.

“Needs more fire.”

“What?” He looked down at his work, eyeing it critically. It almost made Thomas laugh, how seriously the little boy was taking himself. “Okay. More fire.” Without warning, the boy then turned to Thomas, smiling brightly. “I’m Roman!”

Thomas blinked. “Um- Nice to- I mean, hello, Roman.”

The other boy, dropping his drawing utensils, slammed his hands down onto the table, rattling it and sending the orange and black crayons flying. “I’M REMUS!”

Thomas tried his hardest not to wince at the sudden volume. “Okay... What are you drawing there, Remus…?”

Remus’s eyes lit up, a wide grin taking over his face, showing off the rather large gap between his front two teeth. He scrambled to lift up his paper and show off his drawing to Thomas. “I drew a unicorn!” His voice was still far too loud for the small room, but at least it did not start ringing in Thomas’s ear. “‘Cept, ‘steada hooves it’s got hands, and ‘steada wings its got hands, and ‘steada a horn, it’s got a hand. I’m good at drawing hands.”

Thomas felt the strong urge to look away from the vaguely disturbing image that the seven-year-old was waving in front of his eyes, but he forced himself not to. These kids did not deserve someone critiquing their art on top of everything that they were going through. Instead, he smiled weakly and nodded.

Across the table, Roman spoke up, nodding solemnly. “I wish I was good at drawing hands.” He commented morosely.

“I’m sure that you are, Roman. And that’s… very creative, Remus.”

“Creative is what adults say when its bad and they don’t wanna say so!” The little boy chirped, looking directly at Thomas. Alarmingly unblinkingly.

Thomas shook his head quickly, rushing to repair his mistake. “No! I meant it. It is creative. I’ve never seen anyone think of that, and I- uh, I’m an artist.”

Roman gasped dramatically. Well, Thomas supposed that it was supposed to be a gasp. Coming from the young boy, it was more of a dramatic, too long intake of air.

“An _artist_?!”

Thomas nodded, helpfully. “Professionally, yeah, you could call me that.” He really hadn’t meant to brag. He hadn’t even wanted to bring up his career around any of the foster kids that he was meeting that week, he had just wanted to reassure Remus.

Speaking of, Remus was now leaning forwards as well, both of the twins getting in Thomas’s personal space.

He supposed, as a foster parent, he wouldn’t have much personal space, so this was probably a good way for him to get used to it.

“What kind?” Remus asked, peering up at Thomas with an excited gaze matching Roman’s.

“Are you a painter? No! A dancer! NO! A movie star!” Roman leapt to his feet, forgetting the dragon that he was supposed to be adding more fire to.

“Close.” Thomas rubbed at the back of his neck, nervously. “I make videos online for people to watch.”

Remus gasped this time, his eyes wide with wonder. “ _Porn_.”

“ _What_?!” Thomas’s eyes widened. “ _No_. God, no, where did you- No. Like- Like entertainment or singing videos, I’m an actor.”

Roman giggled. “An actor! I wanna be an actor!”

“Me too!” Remus shrieked, jumping to his feet as well. Unsatisfied with his brother not noticing him, he immediately stepped up to stand on his chair as well.

Thomas felt as if this was quickly getting out of hand. “You can both be actors, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, but I’d be better.” Remus’s voice had a tell-tale nasally, taunting nature that Thomas did not like at all.

Roman didn’t seem to like it either. “Nuh-uh! I’m way better at acting than you are!”

“Are not!”

“Are too!”

“Hey, why don’t we color again?” Thomas helpfully lifted up a few crayons, holding them in the eyelines of the children.

Apparently, the fates had wished luck upon Thomas that day, because Roman saw the art supplies and immediately forgot the argument that he was having with his twin and plucked the purple crayon from Thomas’s fingers, falling back into his seat to continue drawing.

Remus, however, was not so easily swayed. He stood still for a moment, pouting silently, his arms crossed, dejected after having such an easy fight be resolved so quickly. Until his eyes latched onto something new to pick a fight over.

“Hey. That’s _my_ crayon.” The boy in green insisted, pointing at the fat purple color that Roman was now drawing flames with.

“You weren’t using it.” Roman answered, simply, continuing to draw.

Remus stomped his foot and Thomas watched helplessly, unsure of what to do in this situation. He knew that he should intervene again, but how?

“It’s mine!” Remus yelled, causing Roman to look up again.

“No it isn’t! I need to use it!” Roman pulled the crayon closer to himself, as if protecting it.

“Use another color!” Remus lunged across the table, grabbing for the hostage crayon, causing Roman to skwak--there really was no other word for a noise like that--and fall backwards in his chair. In next to no time, the two boys were tussling around on the floor, wrestling for the crayon.

Thomas flew from his chair, his hands fluttering uselessly in the air as he wracked his brain for what to do in a situation such as this. Below him, Roman and Remus tossed and turned, a frankly ungodly shriek coming from one of the boys.

“No. It’s _MINE_!”

Thomas couldn’t even tell which twin had yelled it. He couldn’t even tell where one boy ended and another began anymore. He had to do something. Distraction. He needed to distract them, but what to distract them with, he barely knew the kids and _oh no Cassidy was watching, she was never going to let him near another foster kid ever again, not even Logan_ \--

Apparently, Thomas had wasted too much time in trying to figure out what to do, because Cassidy herself entered the room. Surprisingly, she did not look at all worried about the turn of events that led to two seven-year-olds battling it out on the dirty tile. She simply tucked her once again present tablet under her arm, cleared her throat and spoke loudly enough for Roman and Remus to hear over the sound of their own fighting.

“Remus. Roman. If you don’t stop fighting, you won’t get your meeting day ice cream.”

Instantly, there was a change. Roman sat up from where he was pinning his brother to the ground, and Remus struggled underneath him to do the same.

“Ice cream?” The two asked, simultaneously, their previous fight, and Thomas, completely forgotten.

Thomas dropped his hands to his sides, feeling a bit bad for being so helpless in the situation. Cassidy looked up and smiled sympathetically at him.

“Your hour is almost up anyway. It may be best if we just call it here.”

Thomas’s heart grew heavy at the words. He felt as if there was more that he could do to get to know the twins. He wanted to know them. He really wanted to be able to talk with them a bit longer, as weird as the situation had been. But he also knew that Cassidy was right. She knew the childrens’ limits better than he did, and he had obviously proven that he wasn’t quite prepared to deal with them as it was anyway.

He didn’t need to click with every kid that he met, he told himself.

No matter how much he wanted to.

Nodding once, Thomas offered a weak mirror to Cassidy’s smile and turned back towards the boys who were just getting up and dusting themselves and each other off. Offering a simple goodbye, which was quickly matched by the two whose minds were solely on ice cream now, Thomas gathered himself and left the room.

Thomas walked down the hallway towards the front of the building slowly. He shouldn’t let it get to him. He knew that. Thomas really knew a lot that his heart didn’t quite listen to, it seemed. Sure, the meeting hadn’t gone the best. But his meeting with Logan had been better! And like Joan said, he _couldn’t_ match with every one of the suggested kids. It wasn’t at all likely.

Thomas was just reaching to push open the front door with a dramatic sigh when he heard the rapidly approaching footfall. His curiosity getting the better of him, Thomas turned to look over his shoulder, only to see Roman, clutching a sheet of paper in one hand, and dragging Remus behind him with the other, rushing to catch up with him.

“Wait! Mr. Thomas!” Roman’s voice carried down the hall, the hand holding the sheet of paper waving back and forth as if he were trying to hail a cab rather than a human.

Thomas froze, allowing the boys to catch up to him, his eyes questioning. “What are you two doing?” Thomas leaned down as the boys approached.

Roman was wheezing harshly, clearly out of breath from running and yelling like a madman. Remus spoke up for him. “We made you somethin’!”

The smaller boy snatched the paper from his brother and held it up for Thomas to see, just inches from his nose.

It was the drawing that Roman had been coloring on when Thomas had walked into the room. The dragon was now spewing flames, which were obviously done by Remus, judging by how messily they were drawn. Underneath the fire were three newly drawn figures. One was larger than the other two, wearing a large crown and drawn in pink, while the other two figures, in green and red, held swords.

“It’s us!” Roman explained, having regained his breath.

Thomas felt something expand in his chest like a hot air balloon, bringing a wide smile to his face. “You did this?”

Roman nodded, smiling widely himself. The twins looked up at him with matching sparkling brown eyes, Remus yet again showing off that gap between his front teeth. 

“For you!” Roman exclaimed, pushing the paper forward to Thomas’s chest, never once letting go of his brother’s hand. 

“So even if you don’t choose us you can ‘member us!” Remus added, rocking back and forth on his toes.

Thomas swore that he could feel tears welling in his eyes. “That’s… amazing, guys. I love it. So much.”

The boys smiled brighter, letting Thomas take the paper, before Roman stepped back, pulling his brother again.

“We gotta go now. Ice cream time.”

Thomas swallowed his emotions and nodded, straightening up and clutching the drawing carefully. “Alright. You two have fun.” The boys did not need further instruction before they were racing back in the direction that they had just come. “Hopefully I’ll see you soon.”

\----

“Why is he… doing that?”

Cassidy shrugged, watching through the window, seemingly as unable to take her eyes off of the boy on the other side as Thomas.

“Dee is just… like that. He doesn’t take well to new foster parents. Or new people at all, really.”

“Dee…?” Thomas inquired, glancing at the woman before turning back to the window. “I thought that his name was-”

“He only responds to Dee.” Cassidy explained. “Something about only his father getting to use his full name… I wouldn’t push it if I were you. As long as it makes him feel comfortable, as we say.”

Thomas nodded. He could understand that. He certainly wasn’t going to call someone by a name that they did not prefer. The boy deserved that much respect. Calling a thirteen-year-old by their nickname was not too much to ask of a potential foster parent.

Even if said boy was staring creepily at what Thomas knew to be one-way glass, somehow accurately pinpointing exactly where Thomas was standing. It was… unnerving, to say the least.

“You should probably go in.” Cassidy nodded towards the room. “He’s not going to stop.”

Thomas swallowed uncomfortably around the lump in his throat. He thought back to the drawing, now hanging right in the center of his fridge by a magnet. He could do this.

Emboldened by his own rather weak inner pep talk, Thomas stepped forward and opened the door, leaving Cassidy behind.

Immediately, Dee’s eyes shifted towards the door and Thomas. Thomas didn’t allow himself to show the discomfort that the boy’s stare gave him. Carefully, he walked across the room and sat in the chair opposite Dee’s.

The teen looked up, glaring at Thomas silently. It would have been far more threatening, had he not been peering through a mess of blonde curls that made his two-toned green and brown eyes look much less intimidating. Thomas couldn’t help but track his eyes over the rather large birthmark covering most of the left side of Dee’s face. He didn’t mean to stare, but to be fair, Dee was staring first.

The two sat in silence for many minutes. Multiple times, Thomas considered breaking the quietude with a greeting, or an awful joke, but a small voice in the back of his mind that sounded an awful lot like Joan said that he should let Dee make the first move, conversation-wise.

After an excruciating lapse of silence that lasted nearly half of the allotted hour, Dee finally spoke up, his voice gruff, but not at all like what his intimidating stare would suggest.

“I don’t know why she even tries.” The kid was looking away now, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his yellow and black checked hoodie, avoiding eye contact with Thomas so well that he wasn’t sure he was even talking to him.

“Why she tries what?” Thomas didn’t bother asking who the mentioned woman was. He knew that it had to be Cassidy.

The teen rolled his eyes, still facing the wall just to the left of Thomas’s ear. “With chumps like you. I’m not going to like you any more than any other fake parent she has shoved me at.”

Thomas paused, taken aback. He wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. Even though he had been prepared to not get along with the foster kids that he was meeting, he hadn’t expected any one of them to be so outright about disliking him.

“Well… She just wants you to have a good home.” Thomas tried, offering a comforting smile despite the fact that Dee wasn’t facing him.

Dee scoffed. “I already have a home.”

Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He remembered reading in Dee’s file that he was still rather attached to his absent father, but he hadn’t expected to have to approach the subject in their first meeting. He should probably stop trying to expect anything with these kids. They were excellent at subverting his expectations.

“Yes, well… somewhere for you to stay, then.” Thomas didn’t want to outright contradict what the thirteen-year-old believed. It wasn’t his job to alter Dee’s views of his father, just to be there for him.

If he became his foster parent, that is.

Dee didn’t respond for a few moments. The only sign that he heard Thomas was the slight twist of his mouth at the words. “I can stay alone.”

Thomas clasped his hands together, squeezing his fingers over his palm to quell the urge to reach across the table and hug the standoffish boy. “But why would you want to?”

The question rendered Dee quiet. The two sat in silence for a few minutes longer. Every once in a while, Dee would shift positions, obviously uncomfortable with the silence but unwilling to break it quite yet. Thomas allowed himself to look away after a while, not wanted to pressure the boy. If he didn’t want to talk, then the meeting could end just like this.

Nearing the end of the hour, Dee finally cracked, still not looking directly at Thomas. “I don’t like you. And I’m not going to, so stop sitting there expecting me too. It’s annoying.”

The words stung a bit, Thomas had to admit. Instead of showing it, he looked back up, trying to meet Dee’s eyes. The kid was frustrating, and he had only known the boy for less than an hour, but Thomas had to show that he wasn’t going to let the boy convince him that he wasn’t worth it.

“Thank you for your honesty, Dee.”

Immediately, there was a change. An indecipherable look crossed the boy’s earlier stony indifference. He glanced over, finally looking at Thomas, showing bright surprise in those unmatching eyes.

He looked away as quickly as he met Thomas’s gaze, but Thomas knew, feeling the same solid knowledge that he had felt before with the twins and Logan settle in the pit of his stomach.

The rest of the hour passed in silence, though it was ever so slightly less tense than before. Cassidy entered at the end of the time period, waving Thomas out with a small nod.

As Thomas walked back to the front of the building and out to his car, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Dee agreed that it was a successful match. Though he doubted the boy would admit it.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas meets the last two boys and makes a decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: anxiety, self deprecation, mention of imprisonment

Standing at the window to the meeting room for the fourth time that week, Thomas wondered if he had read the correct file. Patton Hart was nothing like what Thomas had expected from a boy who had spent eleven years in the foster system after the incarceration of his father.

The young man standing in the room, glancing every once in a while in the direction of the door wore a bright pastel blue long sleeve shirt that was just a bit too short on his arms, and a pair of khaki shorts that also appeared to be too small for his too-thin, tall frame. Strawberry blond hair curled over the tops of round metal-framed glasses, behind which green eyes were now staring intently at the door, waiting for it to open at any moment.

All in all, the kid looked, although a bit nervous, perfectly comfortable in the situation. _Though, that may have come from doing this multiple times over the past decade,_ Thomas thought.

The word rattled around Thomas’s head, making him feel a bit ill. A _decade_. This poor seventeen-year-old boy had been moved around from home to home, without a real, loving family for more than _half of his life_. 

Already, Thomas could feel that quickly becoming familiar tug at his heartstrings as he watched Patton through the window.

Deciding that he had to actually meet the teen before something inside of him settled on taking Patton in, Thomas took the last few steps over to the door and cracked it open slowly, so that Patton would notice his entrance.

Instantly, the boy was smiling, showing off a pair of perfect dimples. “Hello! It’s very nice to meet you, sir!”

By the time Thomas had stepped inside the room and shut the door behind him, Patton had crossed the floor, and was holding out his hand in greeting. Reaching out and closing his own hand over the proffered hand, Thomas shook it once, surprised at the strong, enthusiastic handshake that the young man gave. His exuberance matched his confident words and wide smile perfectly.

As if on instinct, Thomas was shrugging off the title as he let go of Patton’s hand. “Please, you can call me Thomas. It’s nice to meet you too.” Thomas hid a wince, remembering how the twins had responded to that exact sentence two days ago. He would really have to adjust his vocabulary sometime soon.

Thankfully, Patton’s smile only widened, if that were possible. Thomas got the feeling that this kid was actually happy to meet him. It was… refreshing. Especially compared to Dee’s prickly attitude from the previous day.

“Well, let’s sit down, Mr. Thomas!” Patton turned and walked with a purpose over to one of the empty armchairs. Beyond baffled by Patton’s easy attitude, Thomas didn’t even bother to correct him on the name situation. 

Patton sat on the edge of his seat, bracing his elbows on his knees, making his too tight shirt cling to him in odd angles. His smile never left his face. “Well I’m Patton!” The boy chirped, as soon as Thomas had taken a seat across from him. “You know that, though. It’d be kinda silly if you didn’t! But just in case, you can call me Pat. Or whatever you want really, I’m not picky. I am Patty, though!”

Patton laughed at his own joke, and Thomas found himself laughing along. Somehow, the seventeen-year-old had the exact same brand of cheesy humor as he did.

Patton lit up as Thomas chuckled, his bright green eyes sparking with what Thomas was almost sure was pride. Patton shifted forwards. Thomas worried that he would fall off the chair if he moved any more.

Before Thomas could reply, Patton was speaking again, his thumbs twiddling over the hems of his shorts. “So what do you do?”

Thomas sat up straighter. Unlike the seven-year-old twins, Patton would most definitely know what being a YouTuber really meant. On one hand, Thomas knew that hiding anything from a kid he could potentially be fostering was not good, but he also… didn’t want to taint this. Obviously, Patton would have to know eventually-- _look at you, Sanders, already talking like you’re set on another kid_ \--but right now, Thomas wanted this meeting to be focused on Patton.

“I’m an actor.” Thomas replied, simply. Neither a lie, nor a full truth. “What about you, Patton? What do you do?”

Patton faltered for a moment, but recovered quickly. “Me? Oh, mostly I take care of the kids at home.” He said the word like it was a bit sticky. Awkward. Like he wasn’t quite sure what to call home. “They’re little handfuls, for sure, but you love ‘em!”

Thomas glanced towards the window, where he knew that Cassidy was watching diligently. “So you watch kids…?”

Patton nodded eagerly. “Yeah! I’m actually really good at it! I know that you’re fostering with intent to adopt, Mr. Thomas. Have you met any good candidates?”

It didn’t escape Thomas’s notice that Patton was very good at shifting the subject from himself, even though this meeting was supposed to be about him. He bookmarked that thought for later.

“Well… I can’t be one hundred percent sure. It all depends on what they thought of me, not what I thought of them.”

Patton’s eyes grew thoughtful, but his grin never wavered in the slightest. “Oh? Well that’s just a dandy attitude to have, Mr. Thomas! And if you ever needed help adjusting with some of the younger kiddos, that’s what I’m here for!”

“That’s what… you’re here for…?” Thomas asked, his worry growing into confusion.

Patton shrugged, averting his eyes for the first time since Thomas had entered the room. For some reason, it made Thomas feel as though he were the one that had said something worrisome.

The lapse of silence following Thomas’s question didn’t stand a chance. Unlike Dee, Patton seemed uncomfortable with silence, and quickly scrambled to fill it.

“I just meant-” The boy laughed, weakly. “I’m good at taking care of kids, is all. I mean, who better to watch a bunch of little rascals? I’ve already got four eyes.”

It was a terrible joke. Truly, not many would have laughed at it at all. And honestly, Thomas really should have been more focused on the sinking reality that this seventeen-year-old kid didn’t even think of himself as a kid than he was on bad jokes, but he couldn’t quite help it. Or maybe the dawning realization that Patton Hart maybe wasn’t quite as cheery and childlike as he appeared upon first look was exactly why Thomas laughed.

Dad jokes were a much more comfortable topic for him to get behind.

Seeing the opportunity, Patton quickly tacked on, “Mr. Sanders, do you know why the phone wore glasses?”

Thomas, a smile still pulling at his lips, shook his head. “Why?”

“Because it had lost all of its contacts!”

Thomas bit his lower lip. “Oh, that one was bad.” Leaning forward himself, Thomas thought for a moment before holding up a finger. “What did one window say to the other?”

Patton cocked his head to the side, obviously excited to hear the answer. “What?”

“You’re a real _pane_.”

Patton giggled softly, obviously enjoying the conversation much better than before. “Why don’t eggs tell jokes?”

Thomas couldn’t contain his own smile, warmth blooming in his heart. “Why?”

“They’d crack each other up!”

Thomas huffed, quickly thinking of another pun. “Why can’t a nose be 12 inches long?”

“Why?”

“Because then it would be a foot.”

Patton practically cackled at the joke, the corners of his eyes wrinkling up with mirth. His laugh was loud, uninhibited and light, and Thomas began to wonder how this kid hadn’t gotten a home before now.

Before he could stop himself, the thought was slipping out, the easy laughter and companionship making him loose.

“With jokes like that, it’s a wonder I don’t adopt you right now.”

Nearly immediately, the smile fell from Patton’s face. Like so much snow melting in the middle of March, suddenly Patton’s expression was blank. Something tightened in Thomas’s stomach, but just as he opened his mouth, stumbling to apologize, Patton was looking away and speaking.

“Well, you know. I am seventeen, Mr. Thomas. There are only ten more months until I’m an adult, and the time will have passed.”

Thomas felt as if he had broken some cardinal rule of these first meeting situations. He had royally screwed up, but somehow, Patton was not mad at all. Cassidy didn’t come running into the room to shoo him out with a broom, so Thomas remained seated.

“Before…?” Thomas allowed himself to inquire, his voice was gentle. This was the first that Patton had actually talked about himself since Thomas had entered the room, and even though every other part of him was yelling to stop talking about such a sensitive topic, a morbid curiosity and desire to get to know Patton pushed him to ask. “You don’t have to say if you don’t-”

Patton shook his head, an obviously more forced smile rising over his features. “It’s fine, Mr. Thomas. At least… At least you’re honest about it. I gotta say, not many foster parents are as open as you. It’s very… oh, what’s the word? Commendable!” Thomas must have made a face, because the smile that had started to reform on Patton’s face grew tense again as he redirected the conversation back to what Thomas had asked. “Uh.... as for your question, nobody really wants the… uh... sad kid.” A bit of color rose on those freckled cheekbones, making Thomas’s heart ache. “Everyone wants a cheery little kiddo, and I don’t blame them! They make wonderful families together, and I couldn’t be happier for any one of them! It really is heartwarming, watching a kiddo get adopted. Watching a family form. It sure is something.”

Thomas was at a loss. He hadn’t actually expected such a… honest answer. The raw honesty in Patton’s voice shook Thomas to his core. Despite the fact that Patton had still somehow managed to turn the conversation from himself. Fumbling for something to say, some way to apologize for bringing it up, or ask Patton how he really felt about it all, Thomas opened his mouth, only to see Patton smiling once again. This time, though, his smile was a bit brittle around the edges.

“And that’s what you want, isn’t it, Mr. Thomas?” Patton ran his hands over his shorts, as if they could iron out the wrinkles. His fidgeting only got worse the more the topic stayed on him, it seemed.

So, Thomas let it go. It wasn’t like he could force the kid to open up to him. Even though he was practically itching to pull the kid into a hug and tell him that it was okay to be upset, okay to talk about himself, okay to be a kid.

But it wasn’t his place.

Instead, Thomas allowed Patton to change the topic. “I guess so. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want a family.” After a pause, Thomas continued. “But as they say, families come in all shapes and sizes, and I’m not set on any one formula for one.”

Patton’s smile became just a little bit more genuine, and Thomas relaxed some. “That’s really sweet, Mr. Thomas. Kiddos are gonna be so excited to meet you! How many have you met so far?”

Looking back at Patton’s far-too-mature-for-his-age eyes and vowing to bring some of that childish sparkle back more often, just not right now, Thomas allowed himself to be sucked into a conversation about the interesting characters that he had met in the first half of the week for the rest of the hour.

\----

Virgil Williams.

The last of the six foster children that Cassidy had arranged for him to meet.

Running his palms over the front of his polo, Thomas wondered if this would finally be the kid that he didn’t automatically click with.

Really, Joan was going to have to look up the definition of infinitesimal if he thought that those were the odds of Thomas finding the perfect foster kid, because so far, it looked as though he couldn’t do anything but.

For the first time that week, Thomas didn’t even pause to look in the one way window before entering the meeting area.

It was like a bandaid. He just needed to rip it off.

As soon as he stepped into the room, Thomas spotted Virgil. Making direct eye contact, Thomas saw the boy’s eyes widen ever so slightly before relaxing into a nonchalant expression.

Thomas nearly laughed. Another one who thought that wearing a blank expression was going to hide his every emotion.

Thomas dropped himself into the same armchair that he had been inhabiting at various points throughout the week and allowed himself a moment to look at the teenager before him.

Virgil was kicked back in the chair opposite, his legs thrown over the arm of the chair as if the faux-relaxed position could hide the way that he was picking at the sleeves of his black and purple patched hoodie. As if the dark brown, almost black bangs hanging over his eyes could stop Thomas from wanting to hug him.

Okay, maybe this whole back-to-back meeting thing was getting to his head.

“Thomas Sanders.”

The voice was rough. Far from what Thomas would have expected from the scrawny teen, but not alarming. What was alarming, however, was the look that Virgil gave him. A knowing look that, coupled with his full name, told Thomas something that he hadn’t really expected to face with any of these kids.

“The _famous_ Thomas Sanders?”

Virgil knew exactly who he was.

Thomas wasn’t quite sure whether this was a bad thing or a good thing. On one hand, Virgil knowing about his career meant that he wouldn’t have to explain it all later, if he did end up fostering the teen. On the other, however… Virgil probably already had some preconceived notions about the YouTuber that none of the other kids had had as of yet.

Virgil didn’t look like a mean kid. Or, at least, he didn’t look like he hated Thomas yet, and even though Thomas was arguably bad at picking up on these things, that seemed like a good sign.

Clearing his throat, Thomas stepped further into the room, but did not sit down yet. His hands stuffed into his pockets, the adult tried to appear nonchalant about the situation. “I take it that you’ve seen some of my work…?” He settled on saying.

Thomas had always been wary of hearing what other people thought about his content, but teenagers were notoriously risky in the judging department. They either adored your material obsessively, or hated it with a passion it seemed, and Thomas knew that he was completely unprepared for either position at this time.

Virgil merely shrugged and returned his attention to the phone that Thomas just now noticed that he was holding. “A bit, yeah.”

Judging by the tension still hidden in Virgil’s posture, it was more than a bit. Thomas instantly regretted feeling bad for himself for being in this situation when Virgil was obviously just as, if not more, uncomfortable and anxious.

Something was telling Thomas that his watching Virgil wasn’t helping the situation, so he turned on his heel and faced the small bookshelf that was resting in the corner, acting as though he were interested in the titles of the children’s books there.

“Did anything interest you?” Thomas kept his voice steady.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Virgil shrug, stalwartly not looking up from the screen of his phone. “It was okay.” There was the slightest of pauses before the teen rushed out the next words. “So is this some sort of publicity stunt?”

Thomas’s eyes widened and he turned around to balk at the boy who was still not even looking in his direction. Although he did appear to be pretending to scroll through his phone. 

“A- No!” Thomas winced at his own volume. His shame doubled when he saw how violently Virgil flinched at the outburst. 

“No.” Thomas repeated, this time more quietly. “I would never-”

Virgil looked up from his phone as Thomas stumbled over his words, unable to get his defense out. “No judgement. I can ham it up for the cameras.” Even though Virgil still was not making eye contact, Thomas could feel his neck heating under the boy’s words.

“No, no, no, It- It isn’t like that, Virgil.”

The boy’s head snapped up, and Thomas realized with some chagrin that he hadn’t allowed Virgil to properly introduce himself. Great. Now it looked like he was fostering for internet attention _and_ Virgil knew that he had read his history in the form of a file.

“I meant to say… This isn’t a stunt or anything like that. I swear it. I would never do something like that.” Across the room, Virgil raised a single eyebrow, his eyes focused on the rip at the knee of his jeans. “I’m actually taking a while off of YouTube while I settle in with… all of this.”

Virgil huffed a wry chuckle. “You’d seriously pass up such easy cash content?”

Thomas frowned, more than a bit put out by this boy’s attitude. Even though he was nearly one hundred percent sure that Virgil was mostly putting on a show, the teen was questioning his character and-

And if Thomas was so easily riled by this, he was not cut out to be a foster parent.

Recalling the exercises from his previous fostering classes, Thomas breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth before simply shrugging. “I’m beginning to think that you didn’t watch any of my stuff at all.”

Virgil clicked his phone off and sat it face down on his lap, but still did not look at Thomas. Though, in all honesty, Thomas didn’t really mind that much. “What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t do cheap cash grabs. Especially not at the expense of other people.” He wasn’t bragging. Really. It couldn’t be called bragging to have basic respect for other people and be proud of that fact.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “All internet celebrities do cheap cash grabs. No one would look down on you if you did. Saving poor orphan kids, even if it’s just for a week so you can make a vlog is sort of respectable.”

Thomas stared at him incredulously. “No it isn’t! That is the exact opposite of respectable!”

Thankfully, Virgil did not flinch this time at Thomas’s slightly raised voice. Though Thomas did make a mental not to stop yelling so dramatically.

“I guess so, but I had to ask. Wouldn’t put it behind some people.” Virgil shrugged. “So your plan is to foster some kids, _not_ vlog about them for money, put off your job for who knows how long, and get…? What?”

Thomas’s brows drew together in his confusion. “Why do I have to get something from it?”

Virgil rolled his eyes again, this time sighing as well. “Everyone wants to get something. Don’t act like a saint.”

Thomas paused, mulling over the words. He guessed, that in some twisted way, that was true. He was here for a reason. It wasn’t purely a thought that had arisen purely out of the good of his heart. Taking a moment to think over his response, Thomas watched as Virgil seemingly took his silence for its own answer and turned back to his phone, this time fishing a pair of earbuds out of the pocket of his jacket.

Before he could put the headphones in and drown Thomas out completely, Thomas spoke up. “I did it because I wanted…. A family, I guess.”

Virgil glanced at him, his eyes skeptical for the second that they made eye contact. “Seriously? There are other ways of doing that. Go out, find a pretty lady-”

“I’m gay.”

Both of Virgil’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, but he nodded, as if to say _‘alright, hadn’t expected it, but it doesn’t change my point’_.

“And,” Thomas continued, “I wanted to do this. I… I’m not quite sure where it came from either, but it feels right. And I’ve gotten this far without turning back. I want to do something, help people, and… it just came to me. And it fits. I _want_ to foster.”

Thomas was facing the bookshelf again by the end of his confession. He could feel Virgil’s eyes on him from behind, but he didn’t turn.

“Huh.”

“Huh?”

He couldn’t see him, but after only knowing him this long, Thomas could tell that Virgil was shrugging noncommittally behind his back.

“I guess that’s an okay answer.” There was another pause. “Though I gotta admit, I lied a bit. I’m really not good to on camera.”

Thomas huffed lightly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

\----

Thomas’s fingers hovered over the keyboard unmoving. After another full minute without typing a word, he sighed loudly, bringing his hands up to massage his temples, completely exhausted.

“What do I do…” He murmured to himself, opening his eyes to see his still blank email to Cassidy staring back at him.

He had to make a decision. It had been only a day, but Thomas was under the impression that if he did not make a decision about which kids, if any, he planned on fostering, they would be sent to other homes.

He couldn’t let that happen.

But at the same time, Thomas really didn’t know what to do about this.

And he wasn’t allowed to call Joan after 2AM anymore, by orders of Talyn.

Sighing once again, Thomas got up to fix himself a little post-midnight snack.

As he pulled a box of cereal from the pantry, Thomas thought over his options. There was Patton Hart, the kind, giving teenager who spent way too little time thinking about himself. Thomas couldn’t just let him go. He would probably think that it was because he was too old or something. Then there was Logan Croft, the smart-as-a-whip boy who seemed to think that he needed to list reasons for Thomas to foster him, like he was a used car and Thomas was a skeptical buyer. There was Dee Truman, who had looked so set on hating Thomas that the competitive streak in the man wanted to prove the kid wrong. He also wanted to show him that he was appreciated, despite any barbs the kid threw. Virgil Williams, who just yesterday had accused Thomas like he had lost faith in the world, even though he was only fifteen. Thomas wanted nothing more than to help Virgil see that good people did exist; he also wanted to take Virgil away from any situation that made him flinch like he had the day before. And then there were Roman and Remus Lobo who at first glance were far too much for Thomas to handle, but…

Thomas’s eye caught on the drawing hung on the center of his refrigerator with a small cat-shaped magnet.

Setting down the box of corn flakes, Thomas moved back to the shining light of his computer monitor and began typing.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Move in day arrives!!

“I’m sorry, you did _what_?”

“I… said yes… to all of them.” Thomas repeated, slower and more deliberately this time. Sure, he had been a bit nervous about telling his friends about his decision, and _may_ have blurted it out over their weekly lunch, but it wasn’t as if they hadn’t heard him.

“All six of them?” Talyn spoke this time, their cotton candy blue eyebrows practically reaching their hairline. 

Thomas squirmed uncomfortably, eyeing his two best friends. “Yeah.”

Joan leaned forward, food forgotten. “Six young children? On your first time fostering?”

Thomas rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Technically, only four of them could be classified as young children. Virgil and Patton are fifteen and seventeen.”

Joan didn’t look the least bit comforted by this information. “Look, Thomas,” inwardly, Thomas groaned, knowing exactly what those words meant, “we support you in this, of course we do, but are you sure-”

Thomas shook his head, cutting his friend off. “I am sure. You didn’t meet them, Joan! And I know, when you do, you’re both going to love them!”

“All _six_ of them?” Talyn repeated, their voice somehow both sarcastic and shrill with incredulity. “Thomas, I’ve seen you get overwhelmed by trying to schedule a dentist’s appointment.”

“Yes, all six of them. I want to do this, guys.” Thomas offered a weak smile. He really didn’t know what he would do if Joan and Talyn didn’t fully support him on this. He was secure in his decision, but their approval meant a lot to him anyway. “I can do this. And… And if I don’t, I’m afraid that they’ll just go to some other home where they’re just someone’s meal ticket. I won’t let that happen. This will all work out, especially if you guys are with me! And trust me, you’re going to love them, I promise.”

Talyn and Joan shared a look. Their expressions were unreadable to Thomas, but he crossed his fingers under the table, hoping desperately for the best.

After a silent moment, they turned back to him with resolved looks in their eyes. Thomas smiled weakly, his eyes hopeful.

Talyn leaned forward, resting their chin on their hand and picking back up their fork with their other hand. “Alright, Thomas. Tell us about these kids you’re so crazy about.”

\----

That had been over a week ago. It was finally arrival day, and Thomas could not stop moving. First it had been washing the dishes from breakfast, which soon turned into a full wipe-down of the kitchen and all of the appliances. Then, after a moment of fluttering uselessly around the clean room, Thomas had moved to the common room and began fluffing the pillows, dusting, vacuuming, and whatever else he could find to do. He had moved around the entire house, checking and rechecking the three guest rooms that he had prepared in the months before.

Before he had even thought of fostering, Thomas had the guest rooms open to his friends, should any of them ever have needed a place to stay. Thomas hadn’t been very keen on owning a large house when he was the only one living in it, but now, he was quite glad to have the extra room.

Logan and Patton had arrived first, only a few minutes apart, and with very little fanfare. Logan didn’t offer much conversation, simply hugging his bag to himself and watching silently as Thomas spoke to the social workers that had brought the two over. Thomas could tell that Patton wanted to speak, but Logan remained closed off even as Thomas bid the social workers goodbye and led the two on a short tour of the house.

Patton’s eyes were wide an excited, taking in the new situation with excitement that more than made up for Logan’s apparent lack of enthusiasm.

Nerves bubbled in the back of Thomas’s mind. What if this meant that Logan didn’t want to be fostered by him? What if Patton and Logan didn’t get along at all? How would they even mix with the other kids? Was he already a bad foster parent?

Either Patton had a sixth emotional sense, or Thomas was very easy to read, because the teen looked up at him as soon as they reached the guest room and smiled brightly.

“This looks wonderful, Mr. Thomas. I’m sure that we are going to love it here, right, Logan?”

Logan started, obviously shocked to have been addressed by Patton. Rather than say anything, however, he simply nodded pragmatically. 

Thomas shifted, still a bit uncomfortable with the silence, but unwilling to push Logan to speak. Maybe Logan just wasn’t comfortable yet. The last time that they had spoken, the boy had practically read from a script of his own virtues, which wasn’t really a conversation.

Patton seemed perplexed by the silence as well but turned his attention back to Thomas. “Well, which room should we take?”

Thomas blinked. Right. He had something to do. Turning to the rooms, Thomas gestured weakly. “Well, I only have three spare rooms, so we may have to have two to a room. I was thinking it would be best to pair by age so-”

Patton nodded eagerly, but put on a frown for his next statement. “So Logan and I are in separate rooms?”

Thomas nodded weakly. “Unless you would rather-”

This time, Logan shook his head. “That will not be necessary, Mr. Sanders. Your solution was a logical one, I will room with whomever you see fit.” He still was not looking at Patton. Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas saw Patton’s smile falter ever so slightly. Logan did not wait for confirmation before heading in the direction of the room across the hall.

Patton, smile once again unwavering, his hand clutching the shoulder strap of his worn bag, blew out a tiny breath. “I guess there’s _room_ for us to become better friends.” He turned to the room behind him but paused, turning back to Thomas was something a bit… more vulnerable in his eyes. “Mr. Thomas, if you don’t mind my asking, the other kid, the one that I’ll be sharing a room with, what is his name?”

Thomas relaxed slightly at the joke. Maybe this would work out well after all. “Virgil.” From the front of the house, the doorbell chimed again. “And that may be him now. I have to go answer the door, but do you need any help unpacking, Patton?”

Patton shook his head, smiling more naturally once again. “No, sir! I’m all good. I can _knock_ this out myself.” He giggled at his own joke, and Thomas relaxed, backing up and heading once again to his front door as Patton headed toward the closest bedroom.

When Thomas opened the door, the first thing that he saw was Dee standing at the bottom of the steps, holding a much too stuffed backpack in his skinny arms. Looking around, Thomas noticed that there wasn’t a social worker with the thirteen-year-old. He opened his mouth to ask, but Dee quickly interrupted, an annoyed look on his face.

“Sloane left. I told him I didn’t need him anymore.” Dee trudged up the couple of steps, obviously struggling with the bag in his arms. He kept his expression impressively impassive, however.

Thomas glanced concernedly in the direction of the road once again. There was no sign of this Sloane character, who Thomas assumed was Dee’s personal social worker.

Wasn’t a bit irresponsible to leave a thirteen-year-old child alone in the middle of the street?

Thomas pushed the thought aside as Dee reached the top of the stairs, his foot tapping impatiently on the concrete as he waited for Thomas to move aside. Quickly, he stepped out of the doorway and opened the door wider, taking note of how Dee rolled his eyes as he did so.

Was it just him, or was Dee somehow more angry with him than he had been on the day that they met? Surely not. Dee had to have liked him enough to say that he would be willing to live with him.

As Dee stepped into the front room and Thomas shut the door behind him, he noticed just how much the boy was struggling with the bag in his arms. Acting on his polite southern instincts, Thomas held out a hand and smiled as warmly as he could. “Do you need some help with that?”

Dee’s eyes widened, and he instantly clutched the bag tighter to himself, despite his momentary struggle. Thomas got the distinct impression that Dee thought that he was crazy for even offering such a thing. Thomas’s hand curled in on itself, falling back to his side and he chuckled weakly.

“Guess not… um… do you want a tour?”

Thomas was positive that if Dee stared at him any harder he would physically burst into flames. He didn’t get a verbal answer, so Thomas decided that that was a no. “Alright then. I’ll just… show you your room.”

Dee was just as silent as Logan had been as Thomas led him to the room. Though, to be fair, Logan’s silence had been distinctly less hostile. _At least this meant that they would be perfect roommates_ , Thomas thought to himself.

Once they reached the room, where Logan was diligently unpacking his things, Dee stepped in without a word and began taking residence in the second half of the room. Logan shot him a skeptical glance, but neither spoke. Inwardly, Thomas groaned at the sight. These two would certainly not be making friends any time soon.

Deciding to leave the two to it, Thomas stepped across the hall to peek once more into Patton’s room, where the teen was carefully folding clothes and placing them into drawers. 

Satisfied with the busy kiddos, Thomas moved back to the front of the house to wait for the next arrivals.

For ten minutes, Thomas paced before the door, checking and rechecking his phone for updates from any of the social workers that were going to be arriving any minute now. Every once in a while, he glanced back in the direction of the bedrooms but stopped himself from going back to check on the kids.

_They needed time to get to know one another_ , he reminded himself, pocketing his phone once again. He couldn’t be constantly badgering them when they were trying to adjust to the new space. They would surely hate him if he became a helicopter guardian already.

Thankfully, a rapid, incessant knocking distracted him from his contemplations. In the few steps that it took Thomas to reach the door, the knocking only increased in volume and speed to a loud banging that was certainly hurting the fists of whoever it was doing the knocking.

Thomas knew exactly who it was before he even turned the doorknob.

“Roman! Remus!”

As Thomas threw open the door, the twins barreled into the front hallway, nearly knocking him and each other over in the process.

“THOMAS!” Roman screamed. Thomas suppressed a wince at the volume.

“NEW HOME!!” Remus screeched from where he already stood at the end of the hallway, a garbage bag held tightly in his little fists.

Thomas turned back to the social worker, who stood leaning against his doorway with a drawn, tired expression.

“Good luck.” The man muttered, handing Thomas what he assumed was the last of the twins’ things before turning and practically running down the front steps.

Thomas stood in the doorway, flabbergasted by the sudden disappearance when he felt a tug on the side of his shirt. Looking down, he was met with that little lopsided smile that reminded him exactly why he was doing this. “Yes, Roman?”

“Can we explore?” Roman asked, his voice high pitched and sweet as he drug the toe of his muddy shoe unknowingly across the carpet. Noting the distinct lack of Remus in the hallway, Thomas guessed that Roman’s brother hadn’t waited for permission.

“Sure. Just be careful, and don’t disturb-” Thomas didn’t get to finish his statement because Roman was already running off to find his other half.

“Thank you!!” The boy called out, in what seemed like an afterthought.

Thomas turned back again to close the door when he noticed another car pulling up the driveway.

Finally.

Thomas waited patiently as Virgil and his social worker climbed out of the car. Virgil’s social worker looked like a stern woman. Thomas’s suspicions were confirmed as he watched her direct Virgil in the exact way to move his single bag out of the car, her mouth flapping a mile a minute.

Thomas almost cheered when he saw Virgil roll his eyes.

He smiled brightly when Virgil turned in his direction, barely containing the urge to wave cheerfully at the boy.

What could he say? He was a simple man of simple pleasures. Such as finally having six children who he without a doubt somehow already loved under his care.

Thomas bit the inside of his cheek as he registered the tiny twitch of Virgil’s mouth in what could almost, _almost, maybe,_ be considered a smile, if it hadn’t been so contradicted by the way the teen hunched in his purple hoodie.

Virgil started up the steps, having a much better time with his things than Dee had. Just as his foot landed on the second step, however, a cacophony of seven-year-old screams rose from behind Thomas. Virgil met Thomas’s eyes and turned right back around in the direction of the car.

His social worker, a woman with apparently no sense of humor, glared, and Virgil slowly pivoted back to face Thomas.

“Are you sure about this?” Virgil’s voice was low, conspiratorial.

Thomas grinned, rubbing his hands together. “More than anything.”

And despite what his nerves from earlier that day said, he really truly was.

\----

Patton fiddled nervously with the threads underneath his restless fingers.

He had finished unpacking what felt like lightyears ago.

No, wait, lightyears were distance things, weren’t they?

Patton shook his head. He certainly wasn’t smart enough to be expected to know things like that, and it was beside the point anyway.

Without something to do with his hands--something like unpacking and carefully unfolding and refolding and stacking and placing his things in his still half-empty dresser--Patton felt a little bit… lost.

Not that he needed to do something. He could just sit here and wait for Thomas to finish up dinner like he was asked.

He just didn’t want to. He wanted to help. Surely one of these kiddos would love to have help.

Across the room, one of said kiddos, the one with long dark bangs that had introduced himself as Virgil Williams just a few minutes ago, sat, his bag still packed next to him as he stared silently at the wall.

If Patton were a bit less polite, he would have said that that stare gave him the heebie-jeebies.

However, Patton was polite, _very_ polite, so instead he put on his best smile and stepped across the nonexistent line and into Virgil’s half of the room.

“Hi.” Patton offered. His hands twisted together behind his back. Nerves like this always came with a new house, or with meeting new people. On the day that Patton had met Thomas, he had had a whole migration of butterflies in his tummy. Meetings like this were important. He could very well be living with Virgil until he turned eighteen.

Virgil turned slowly to look up at Patton. His eyes expressionless and face impressively pale, even for a foster kid. “Hi?”

“I was wondering if you’d like some help unpacking?”

Virgil’s expression steeled. He shook his head finitely. “No thanks.”

Any warmth that had been in his tone-- _there hadn’t been much_ \--was gone. Patton gulped. “Oh. Okay, uh, just offering!” Patton smiled, forcefully.

There was a moment of awkward silence, during which Virgil moved his bag into his lap.

Clearing his throat, Patton decided to try again. Anything was better than just standing in his half of the room in complete silence, doing nothing. “So, um…” Patton wished more than anything that his nerves would just disappear. “How do you like it here?”

Apparently, Virgil either took pity on him, or that question was the right one to ask. Honestly, Patton could not care less. “It’s alright. Thomas is… an okay guy.”

Virgil looked like he wanted to say something else, but Patton was just ecstatic to have gotten more than a two word response from the younger teen. “Right? I think he’s pretty nice, I mean to take all six of us in like this.”

Virgil shrugged. It appeared as though his mind was on something else.

Deciding to just quit while he was ahead, Patton backed back into his side of the room, his smile just a little bit wider.

\----

As Thomas set seven bowls of pasta down on the kitchen table, he patted himself on the back for making it through the day.

A recurring rule from every book, article, or advice column that he had read about being a foster parent--celebrate the little things. Surviving move in day with no fights, injuries or fallouts seemed like more than a little thing. Smiling to himself, Thomas left the set table to go gather the kids.

Rather than call out that the meal was ready, Thomas headed straight for the not-spare-anymore rooms, which were thankfully all on one side of the house. Two of the bedroom doors were open when Thomas got to the end of the hallway. He stepped towards those first.

Thomas knocked on the wall beside the door to Patton and Virgil’s room. The two boys looked up in near synchronization. Virgil quickly dropped whatever he had been holding into his pocket and stood. Patton watched him before following.

“Dinner’s ready?” Patton asked, ever polite.

Thomas nodded. “Yeah. I’m going to grab the others, but you guys can head on down. The table’s all set.”

Both Virgil and Patton looked a bit surprised by that information. Like they had assumed that Thomas would make them help out on their first day. It wasn’t an unlikely assumption, he guessed, but it still pulled at his heart strings every time one of the kids showed evidence of just how much responsibility had been put on them from a young age.

Smiling encouragingly, Thomas stepped back from the door to give them room to step out.

“Alright!” Patton piped up, taking the first step around Thomas and into the hallway. “We can be down there when you send on the kiddos, right Virge?”

Virgil blinked, his pale eyes wide with something akin to the look that a startled deer got in its eyes, quite possibly at the nickname. He inched around Thomas and shuffled awkwardly between Thomas and Patton, not making real eye contact with either.

“Uh, yeah, sure…?” The last part came out as a question, but Patton didn’t seem to mind as he smiled brightly in Thomas’s direction and started down the hall towards the kitchen. Virgil followed only a delayed second afterwards.

Thomas breathed a small sigh of relief. He had the feeling that Virgil and Patton were really going to be blessings in the next few weeks.

A couple steps more led Thomas to the twins’ room. He had helped the boys unpack some after they had arrived, but from the looks of it, everything had been taken out of where he and the boys had put it away, and strewn haphazardly across the room.

The two boys sat, criss-cross-applesauce in the middle of the carpeted floor, picture books open and forgotten around them as they played with what looked like a lone sock and some loose LEGOs.

He should have known better than to be worried about leaving them alone. Really, he wasn’t quite sure what those previous foster parents had against Roman and Remus.

Thomas cleared his throat. “What are you guys up to?”

Roman looked up, beaming and dropping the few LEGO pieces that he was stacking. “We’re being good!”

“Roman said I couldn’t flush all the soap down the toilet.” Remus didn’t look up from where he was trying to pull the sock all the way up to his shoulder. Thomas made a mental note to lock the cabinets.

“It would make a mess.” Roman said, wisely.

“It’s _soap_!”

“And toilet water!”

“You didn’t care about mess when Mrs. Waller said your teddy was dumb, and we turned all of her flower pots-”

Thomas cleared his throat again. Roman and Remus looked like they could argue for hours about this, and dinner was going to get cold. “I’m very glad that you didn’t flush all of the soap, but it’s dinner time. Do you guys like spaghetti?”

The twins gasped simultaneously, dropping their respective toys and scrambling to their feet.

“Spaghetti!!” Remus called, rushing to the door. Roman squealed and ran after his brother, the two of them pushing past Thomas. Thomas sent a little prayer out that Patton and Virgil would be able to handle the two seven-year-olds for a few minutes.

Thomas turned on his heel and eyed the final door for a couple of seconds.

Stepping closer, Thomas listened for a moment. He didn’t _mean_ to eavesdrop. He didn’t want to be that sort of guardian. But he couldn’t help but be disappointed when he heard nothing from the other side of the door.

Looked like Logan and Dee had kept up their silence this entire time.

Thomas knocked softly on the door. There was no answer for a couple of moments, but just as he was about to knock again, the door opened halfway, revealing Logan. Behind him, Thomas could just see Dee sitting on the edge of one of the beds, watching silently.

Thomas really didn’t want to know what had been going on in this room while the door had been shut. After just a few seconds, he was already uncomfortable.

“Hey, Logan.”

“Hello.” The twelve-year-old responded, his hand still on the doorknob.

Thomas stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Dinner is ready. If you guys want to come down.”

Logan glanced quickly back at Dee before turning back to Thomas and responding. “Yes, of course, Mr. Sanders.” He opened the door the rest of the way and stepped out.

Thomas smiled and stepped back as well. He paused, though, and peaked into the room at the other boy. “Dee?”

Dee stared for a moment, unresponsive, before pushing himself to his feet and stalking out of the room, right past Thomas and Logan and down the hall, following the smell of the food. Logan looked mildly surprised at this action but followed after. Thomas’s stomach squirmed as he too followed in Dee’s footsteps.

In the dining area, Virgil was sitting at the table, carefully sequestered off in a corner, his spaghetti untouched before him. Dee had already sat directly across from him, and the two were eyeing one another in a way that made Thomas feel like he should separate them.

Thomas looked over into the kitchen area, where Patton stood, hovering beside the stove. As he stepped closer, he could see why. Roman and Remus were standing in the middle of the kitchen, and Patton was probably with them to make sure that no injuries were sustained. Thomas smiled slightly at the sight. He was a good kid.

Roman and Remus were staring at the refrigerator, chattering excitedly, and Thomas remembered suddenly that their picture was still hanging on the front of the appliance. 

As he stepped into the room and Logan headed for the table, Roman and Remus turned, grinning excitedly.

“You kept it!” Roman exclaimed, practically bouncing in place. Behind him, Patton smiled.

“We did that.” Remus informed Patton, before turning to the room at large and addressing the older kids sitting at the table. “We did that!”

Logan was the only one who looked like he even heard the kid. He simply nodded in lieu of a reply. Virgil and Dee were still engaged in a staring contest that twisted Thomas’s stomach in knots.

Patton gently place hands on the twins’ shoulders, causing Roman to start, but neither boy balked at the touch. “Why don’t we head to the table and get some food, huh, little artists?”

Roman smiled widely, showing all of his teeth. Remus grinned so hard his face could have split in half, shimmying his shoulders excitedly before bounding over to the table and dropping into the seat right beside Dee. Roman followed after and sat beside him.

Thomas mouthed a thank you to Patton, whose cheeks pinkened slightly as he shrugged before heading to the table himself, sitting between Virgil and Logan.

Thomas sat at the head of the table, a position that he normally hated, but just so happened to be the only spot left.

Unsure if he was supposed to say something--this was their first time all in one place, their first _meal_ together, what exactly could he say that didn’t sound cliche or fake?--Thomas looked over the six kids for a few seconds.

Thankfully, it didn’t look as though the kids expected him to say anything, as as soon as he sat down, the twins picked up their forks and began shoveling food into their mouths, and Logan and Patton began doing the same at a much more civilized pace.

Thomas reached for his own fork, but as soon as he moved, Dee spoke up from the other end of the table.

“I don’t like spaghetti.” He announced, leaning back in his chair.

Everything froze. Even the twins, their mouths half-full of pasta were staring at the sudden statement. Patton almost looked scared at the blatant admission, his eyes darting back and forth between Dee and Thomas, while Logan simply lowered his fork, watching Thomas.

“Oh-” Thomas placed his fork back down, flustered. He hadn’t anticipated any of the kids not liking what he made for dinner. He had made sure to avoid allergens noted in their files, he really should have thought about this. He racked his brain for something that he could make for Dee quickly. Grilled cheese? A can of soup? Really, he should have planned ahead. How could he had been so-

“Liar.”

Virgil’s voice was gruff. Roman and Remus’s heads swiveled to stare at Virgil now, as if they were watching a particularly interesting tennis match.

Dee bristled, and Thomas really regretted not taking the chance to separate them, even though he wasn’t sure how Virgil could make such an accusation about someone he didn’t even know.

Prepared to disengage a fight, Thomas placed his hands placatingly on the tabletop.

Much to his surprise, though, Dee didn’t bite back. Instead he rolled his mismatched eyes and picked up his fork, digging into his spaghetti.

Silence reigned over the table for another few moments before Logan broke the ice and began eating again as well.

One by one, the children went back to eating their dinner. Eventually, Thomas joined in. It took only a few minutes for a conversation to start up. Thankfully, with Roman and Remus around, no uncomfortable silence could last for long.

As Roman recounted the story of their trip over, with Remus interjecting every few seconds to add to the story, tension slowly seeped out of the room. Dee and Virgil stopped acknowledging one another, and Logan seemed content to focus on his food undisturbed. Every once in a while, Patton would slip a paper napkin across the table to either Remus or Roman, and though only Roman accepted the offerings, Patton seemed to be fine with spending the meal listening and helping out as he could. Thomas himself asked questions of the twins when appropriate, but for the most part, despite the bumps that the day had seen, he couldn’t stop thinking about how happy he was to finally have them all here.


End file.
